


Easy Money

by King of the World (lucid_lies)



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Porn, Anal Sex, Eggsy's potty mouth, Gay Sex, Gratuitous Smut, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Pornstars, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, Supposed to be PWP, but then plot happened, the pornstar au no one wanted
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-07-15
Packaged: 2018-04-09 03:07:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4331427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucid_lies/pseuds/King%20of%20the%20World
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eggsy needs some quick cash so he accepts an offer to film a porno. Toss in some mistaken identity, hilarious misunderstandings, one Harry Hart and you've got yourself the pornstar AU no one asked for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. a hotter touch, a better fuck

**Author's Note:**

> This literally came out of no where and socked me in the face. I didn't even know there was a category for Kingsman fanfic until about an hour ago. And then this happened. I don't know what I'm doing anymore. I made Harry Hart a pornstar. I am unleashing my pornstar au onto the world. It's not beta-ed (but probably should be) and there might be some tense mistakes because I'm half asleep but here it is in all of it's terrible glory.
> 
> Feel free to point out any mistakes you find.

Eggsy taps his foot against the linoleum, leg jiggling in time with his rapidly beating heart. His bottom lip is raw and red, hours spent chewing on the tissue filling it with blood. He glances around nervously, half expecting some psycho to pop out and scare the shit out of him.

Looking around the nice lobby with the nice secretary and a nice office plant, Eggsy never would have guessed that something as hush hush as porn would be filmed in such a place. To be honest, when he accepted the job, he’d been desperate. Dean was being a right arse and they didn’t have any money left on account of him nicking it all when he went on a bender a fortnight ago.

They’d gotten by before but that was when there were only two mouths to feed - and his mum always gave up her share. But now they had the baby to worry about and rent was due soon. Eggsy was tired of hearing his mum cry in the bathroom late at night, when she thought he was asleep. He was tired of never being able to provide for her, protect her.

Now, he might have the chance to do something right for once. For her. He wouldn’t be such a colossal fuck up anymore. All it would cost was his pride and he gave up on having any a long time ago.

And really, gettin’ paid to have sex was easy money, made by lying’ on your back. It was nothing Eggsy hadn’t done before with some of his more risqué exes. The only difference was this time, he’d be gettin paid for it and more than one person’d see it. Or at least that’s what he keeps telling himself.

Though all this - the professional office, the chrome, the little old secretary - is not what he expected when he signed on the dotted line. When that old geezer propositioned him, Eggsy thought it would be a quick, dirty fuck in the back of an alley, filmed on a shitty mobile phone and uploaded to some amateur porn website by an old man whose marriage ended a long time ago. He didn’t like the thought of being some rich prick’s rent boy but he was getting paid, and paid well. He couldn’t refuse.

But when he showed up in the heart of London, surrounded by all sorts of corporate buildings, he was well and truly fucking shocked. The situation only got even more bizarre when he checked in with the little old lady sitting behind the desk.

“Eggsy, Mr. Hart will see you now.”

Startled out of his thoughts, Eggsy bolts up in his seat like a nervous schoolboy caught doing something naughty. He nervously runs a hand through his cropped hair and tries to smooth out his jeans. The secretary shoots him a kind smile.

“Alrigh’?”

“Mr. Hart’s waiting in the green room, take a left down this hallway. It’ll be the last door on the right.”

“Thanks,” Eggsy responds, mustering up a half hearted smile. “'preciate it.”

Inclining her head, she goes back to tapping away on her computer. Eggsy stares at her for a few moments, unsure of what to do with himself before deciding to just get it over and done with. The sooner he meets this Mr. Hart, the quicker they can get to fucking, and the quicker he’ll make bank.

Walking down the overly bright hallway makes Eggsy feel like he’s on a death march, the scuff of his trainers on the tile over-loud and ringing in his ears. With each step forward, it feels like his feet are turning into blocks of cement. Dread builds low in his belly.

The closer he gets to the door, the more he realizes how shit of an idea this really is. He can’t do this - he can’t fuck some geriatric prick who most likely needs help getting it up, while getting filmed.

Just as he’s turning around to bolt out of there and never look back, the door to the room swings open. He steps back quickly to avoid a bloody nose.

“Oh. And who might you be?”

A posh, refined accent questions him.

Eggsy’s head snaps up with so much force he almost gives himself whiplash. Looking like a deer caught in headlights, Eggsy stares up at the stranger, dumbfounded.

Whoever he is, he’s well fit. While he definitely falls into the middle age category, the stranger has a certain air of timelessness about him which overall gives him the effect of youth. He’s got a thick head of dark hair, with thin lips and peaceful eyes. He’s trim and lean, broad shouldered. Tall and wiry.

A tailor fitted suit cloaks his body, a pair of fancy shoes and black rimmed glasses completing his well put together outfit.

Eggsy squirms, immediately fixing his gaze to the floor. That suit probably costs more than an entire year’s rent at his flat. He feels inferior next to such an aristocratic looking man in his trussed up jeans, frayed jumper, and manky trainers. Pleb meet your superior.

Scratching at the side of his neck, Eggsy starts shuffling backwards, refusing to make eye contact. “S’nothin’. Sorry, I was jus’ leavin’.”

The man opens his mouth, looking like he’s about to protest when Eggy’s back suddenly slams into something hard and he stumbles forward.

Windmilling his arms, Eggsy tries to regain balance. A gentle hand placed against his chest steadies him. When he glances up and meets the stranger’s amused gaze, Eggsy flushes and immediately shies away from the touch.

There’s muffled cursing coming from behind them and together, Eggsy and the unknown man turn to look at the poor unfortunate soul caught in the crossfire. All the colour drains from Eggsy’s face when he sees who he bumped into.

It’s the prick who propositioned him.

He’s rubbing a wrinkled hand against his breast plate, frowning. The wrinkles lining his mouth are deeply etched into his face. His thick glasses are askew and his snowy hair looks disheveled. He’s also wearing a suit but it doesn’t look nearly as good on him as it does on the man standing next to Eggsy.

“Fucking hell…”

Hooded, watery blue eyes peer at the both of them through thick lenses.

Eggsy suppresses his urge to be sick. He can’t believe he got desperate enough to even think about letting this dirty old bastard use his arse for money. A cold shiver races down his spine at the thought of lying back and taking it from this walking skeleton.

“Sorry, was just on my way out,” says Eggsy, edging towards the other side of the hallway. Both of the men are watching him curiously and he just wants to curl in a hole and die. As if it wasn’t bad enough even coming into a building used to film porn, he embarrasses himself by almost killing the man he was supposed to fuck. “Must’ve got the wrong address.”

The newcomer raises a white eyebrow, eyes roving over Eggsy’s body.

‘ _Dirty fuckin’ pervert_.’

“No, you’ve got the right address. After all, I’m the one that gave it to you.”

Mysterious Suit Man hasn’t taken his eyes off of Eggsy since they bumped into one another, and after hearing that, his expression grew thoughtful, gaze even more intense and curious and something else entirely. Something dark. Eggsy would say he looked downright predatory if he didn’t know any better.

“Ah, so you must be Eggsy,” that smooth accent curls around his name and sends a shot of liquid fire straight into his gut. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet the man I’ll be working with. Arthur has told me much about you.”

Eggsy’s skin crawls.

“Arthur?” he questions, quickly glancing towards Father Christmas. “I’m assumin’ tha’ makes you Mr. Hart, am I righ’?”

Mr. Hart smiles congenitally, eyes crinkling at the corners, dipping his head in greeting. He holds out a large, square palm.

Cautiously placing his hand in the other’s, Eggsy gives it a brief shake before quickly dropping it. He tries not to think about how good the other man’s skin felt against his own, or how warm and soft his palm was. How those hands would feel sliding across his ribs and down his thighs.

Clearing his throat, Eggsy jabs a thumb over his shoulder towards the exit. “Well, it’s been nice but I changed m’ mind. I’m sorry, Arthur. I though’ I could do it but there’s jus’ no way I’m lettin’ you inside me, brov. No hard feelin’s though, yeah?”

For a moment, Arthur and Mr. Hart both look equally stunned before a startled, reedy chuckle tumbles passed Arthur’s lips and Mr. Hart looks thoroughly amused, lips titled in a crooked smile.

Eggsy scowls, ears heating up at their obvious enjoyment at his expense. He feels like he missed something colossal and just made a right arse of himself somehow. Turning on his heel, he starts to march away without a word.

They suppress their laughter before he can get too far away.

“Oh my dear boy, thank you,” Arthur says, still chuckling slightly. “I needed a good laugh.”

“Yeah? Well, glad a pleb like me could provide some entertainment for a stuck up -- “

Mr. Hart swiftly interrupts before Eggsy can put his foot in his mouth. He smooths a hand down his chest, brushing out the wrinkles as he speaks, “What he means to say, Eggsy, is that it’s amusing that you came here under the assumption you’d be making a film with Arthur.”

Eggsy’s brows furrow in confusion, giving a moue of displeasure.

“Who was I supposed to do the film with, then?”

Mr. Hart grins, all teeth and suddenly, the kind gentleman persona melts away and Eggsy sees that Mr. Hart is just a wolf waiting patiently for its prey.

“With me.”


	2. got more wit, a better kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I'm blown away by the response to my silly, indulgent fic but I'm so incredibly happy you all seem interested. Again, this one is unbeta-ed but probably should be. Feel free to point out any mistakes you find. No porn in this one but it's coming up (the next chapter) soon.
> 
> This chapter could have gone one of two ways but I debated on doing something different. Eggsy could have followed the role or just said fuck it and be himself. I chose the latter but I was tempted to do the former because I could have had fun bringing more Kingsman stuff into it. Maybe I'll do a mixture of both. I don't know yet. 
> 
> I hope I didn't disappoint.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy~

“CUT!”

Eggsy winces, feedback from the megaphone whining through the set. There’s a set of grumbles from the crew as they halt filming (again) and it just makes him feel even more like shite. They’ve done five different shots already and each one is worst than the last. He says a line wrong, he’s in the wrong position or he’s not even on camera at all - outside of the parameters.

He can tell everyone is starting to get annoyed with his constant fuck ups but he can’t help it. Eggsy isn’t seasoned. He’s never done this sort of thing before outside of shaky home videos that have shit quality. And there certainly hadn’t been a horde of people about to watch him shag a man old enough to be his dad.

The director walks over to him, irritation slipping through his cool expression.

“Eggsy, what seems to be the problem? The last few shots have been...well, they’ve been a bit shite.”

“I know, I know...’m sorry, it’s jus’...”

“Just what?”

Eggsy gestures towards himself. He’s dressed to the nines, wearing a fancy black suit that hugs his body and glides across his skin like silk. It’s the first time he’s ever worn a suit that fits properly. He’s wearing a pair of shiny black shoes and thick rimmed glasses, his sandy hair slicked back. All in all, he looks like a proper gentleman. The effect is destroyed by the rough accent that comes out when he speaks.

“All a this, it ain’t...well, it ain’t me,” Eggsy responds, tugging self consciously on the cuff of his blazer. “I ain’t some posh bloke with a stick up his arse.”

The director rubs a finger against his temple, willing away a migraine. He spears Eggsy with a stern gaze, a mix between amused and exasperated.

“This film isn’t about you, it’s about the role you’re playing.”

“I know it ain’t about me,” Eggsy says defensively. “I’m jus’ shite at bein’ an actor.”

“You’re telling me.”

Eggsy scowls but before he can retort, Mr. Hart glides over to them, resting a palm against the gentle curve of Eggsy’s lower back. The younger male jolts forward in surprise. He can feel the heat from Mr. Hart’s hand through the fabric of his jacket and shirt. Eggsy squirms with the urge to pull away but refrains. Mr. Hart’s going to be doing a lot more than just touching his back in a little while. He might as well get used to the other man invading his personal space.

“Is there a problem, gentlemen?”

The director shoots a bemused look Eggsy’s way.

“Not really, Harry. Your co-star is finding it hard to get into the role, though,” the director says.

Mr. Hart glances down at Eggsy, that same dark, predatory look in his eyes from before. Eggsy can see them light up when Mr. Hart has a thought and his gut clenches, and he knows he’s probably not going to like whatever comes out of the man’s mouth next.

“Well, if Eggsy here is having such a hard time playing the part, why not do away with the role all together, Merlin?” Mr. Hart says, smiling kindly.

Eggsy knows better though, he can see the beast just waiting behind Mr. Hart’s calm facade. He can feel it rumbling beneath the man’s skin, the palm pressing into his back firmly, possessively. Staking some unspoken claim that goes right over Eggsy’s head.

The director (Merlin, Eggsy thinks) glances back and forth between Eggsy and Mr. Hart, a strange expression flitting across his face before he stares Mr. Hart in the eyes. If Eggsy hadn’t been watching the exchange so closely, he would have missed Merlin’s discreet nod and Mr. Hart’s answering smirk.

“Aye, that can be arranged.” Merlin turns to Eggsy. “How about it, Eggsy?”

“How about what, exactly?” he asks cautiously, feeling off about their strange nonverbal conversation. It feels like he witnessed something important happening between the two of them, but it was spoken in a language he has no hopes of understanding.

“Getting rid of the role - you can act like you normally would, we can even get you a change of clothes, if you want. And you'll still have to follow the general idea of the script and the dialogue. You can word it however you like though. And of course, we’ll still use a stage name when we release the final product to protect your privacy. As it stands, if you agreed, It would eliminate most of our problems."

The thinly veiled jibe makes Eggsy’s ears burn and he drops his gaze to his shoes. He’s aware of just how much trouble he’s been causing everyone today. To be honest, the thought of shedding his persona - even if it’s a shite one at that - makes him feel strangely vulnerable. Instead of a character he’s playing getting fucked, it’ll be him - just Eggsy. He won’t have that wall between him and what he’s doing. All of the reactions he gives won’t be scripted (for the most part), they’ll be natural Eggsy-responses.

Mr. Hart won’t be fucking a fictional character, he’ll be fucking Eggsy.

Letting himself be that vulnerable in front the crew, opening himself up to Mr. Hart like that, knowing people will be watching **him** and masturbating - it all makes Eggsy’s head spin. He almost wants to laugh at the utter absurdity of the situation he’s got himself into. He feels a bit barmy when he nods his head in agreement.

The smug, satisfied smile that cuts across Mr. Hart’s face like a knife confirms that Eggsy just signed a deal with the devil.

Apprehension mixed with arousal sparks down his spine and settles deep in his belly.

Mr. Hart truly is a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

Eggsy bets he fucks like a hound.

“Well, now that we’ve got that settled, shall we begin, Eggsy?”

Mr. Hart’s eyes glitter dangerously and he crowds close, the pads of his fingers resting on the soft beginning swell of Eggsy’s arse.

The smell of Mr. Hart’s aftershave, crisp and fresh, surrounds the youth, muddling with his senses and clouding his head. And he wants to bare his neck submissively, want to let the older man do whatever he damn well pleases with his body but that’s not him. He’s not some wilting flower and he won’t give in so easily. 

After all, Eggsy knows men like Mr. Hart like to chase after their prey. The thrill of the hunt makes the capture so much more satisfying.  It sparks in him the desire to do something completely unexpected. 

So with that in mind, Eggsy casually brushes a hand against Mr. Hart’s chest, fingers idly playing with the silk tie. He looks up at the taller man, eyes half mast. A teasing smirk curls up his lips.

When he speaks, Eggsy makes sure his tone is rough and low, like he just had a good, hard ride when he speaks.

“Lead the way then, Mr. Hart,” Eggsy replies.

The older man’s gaze _burns_ through Eggsy, setting him on fire. Mr. Hart’s eyes are dark, twin pools of desire. His beastly smile makes all kinds of dark promises. Promises Eggsy silently hopes are fulfilled.

He doesn’t plan on making this easy for Mr. Hart. Hopefully the other man is up to the challenge.

“Of course, Eggsy,” Mr. Hart practically purrs, using the hand he has on the smaller male’s back to herd him towards the middle of the set. “It would be my pleasure.”

The double entendre is not lost on Eggsy.

He suppresses a pleasurable shudder.

The game is on.


End file.
